Time Doesn't Heal All Wounds
by sweetyeevee
Summary: What happens in the past doesn't stay in the past. A certain old cold case becomes the center of a string of murders in D.C. Its reamergance will introduce the B.A.U. team to the true demonic evils of their world, and reawaken feelings forgotten in a boy with experience past his years.
1. Prologue

_-August 31, 1:22 A.M.-_

The moon was high in the sky and gave a white wash glow to everything its light touched. The stars were few, drowned out by the unnatural light of the city. The dirty alleyways barely stirred with life from a passerby drunk or a random unfortunate that called an alleyway home.

It was D.C. nights like these that a certain person loved to walk about and observe the nightlife of the streetwalkers and the degenerates. Was it dangerous? Certainly. Did the person worry? No, not at all.

This very person who loved to walk and observe blended in very well: an old bulky coat, heavy dirty boots, and a dusty hat that covered the head. You couldn't tell how old the person was or even if the person was a man or a woman. The person had walked through these streets many times before and was such a common sight that it would be noticed if they didn't come walking around.

After a few minutes the person turned a corner and reached their destination: a street well known for its female streetwalkers. The one that had caught their eye before, a young woman who was still relatively new, was in sight. The person walked over to her, they were getting closer and closer until they reached her and turned down the alley she was right by. It wasn't a good time yet. They stood in watch waiting for the right time, and it came rather quickly.

Half of the girls who were on the street were gone, having had left to entertain their customers. The person made their move.

It only took one well braced arm and ready hand to get the young woman and drag her into the alley. And only one, two hand movements to silence her.

One: reach into coat

Two: slash across her neck

So simple.

The young woman started to fade until… nothing… until she was an empty vessel with not a drop of life left, but with plenty of blood remaining. She was dropped onto the ground like an old, boring toy. The person kneeled down and got to work. A deep long slash here and a few incisions there and it was complete. It had taken longer for the young woman to fade away then it had been to grab, kill and cut her open, but it had all happened in a matter of minutes.

The silence was broken by a low scratchy whisper, "A dog doesn't attack unless it's threatened." The person pulled out an envelope with a red wax seal from the depths of their coat and placed it on the young woman's torso, her limp hand placed over it.

"But first it has to sense danger."


	2. Invitation

_-August 24, 11:57 P.M.-_

_-One week before-_

It was late by the time the last agent left. The rest of the staff of the Behavioral Analysis Unit of Quantico, Virginia had left two hours ago after having had tried to get him to leave too, with obviously no success.

It was near midnight when S.S.A. Aaron Hotchner finished all of his paperwork from a case he and his team had just come from that very day. To say that he was tired was an understatement. As the agent put away his papers and packed his things in his briefcase, he felt as if he were being watched, he slowed his movements but didn't stop. He braced himself before spinning around.

"Aaron, are you alright?"

Standing in his office doorway was David Rossi, fellow teammate and friend. "Dave what are you doing back here?" asked Hotch as he relaxed. Rossi walked into the office, which was when Hotch realized that he was in full evening wear. "I got bored really fast at this political fundraiser and escaped by saying that I got called to the office," explained Rossi, "But I was also worried about you still being here when we come in tomorrow, so I stopped by." Hotch gave the older Italian man a tired smile, "I haven't done that yet and don't plan to now."

He packed the rest of his things into his briefcase. "And by the way," he added closing his briefcase, "political fundraiser?" Rossi shrugged smiling, glad to have gotten a real smile out of him. "It was a favor."

Hotch grabbed the briefcase and pulled it off then desk, causing a few stray papers and an envelope to fall off. Envelope? He didn't remember that earlier. He bent down to pick up the crisp white envelope. The front only had two words scrawled across it in a swooping cursive script: Aaron Hotchner. He flipped it over and was surprised at seeing a crimson red wax seal with an impression on it.

"Something wrong?" asked Rossi at seeing the second of surprise on his unit chief's face. Hotch straightened up and showed him the envelope. Taking it in his own hands, Rossi studied it also having the same surprise at seeing the wax seal. "Don't see that nowadays," he commented. He handed it back to Hotch, "We might as well see what's in it." The man raised an eyebrow at the Italian. "You know you can open it too, right?"

"I don't want to make opening other people's mail a habit," Rossi explained with humor lightly ringing in his voice. Without a comment, Hotch grabbed his keys and slipped one under the flap to break the seal. He pulled out a sheet of printing paper folded into perfect thirds. When he unfolded it, however, the message was written in the same swooping cursive script as on the envelope.

**_Why do people kill? Why can some people torture and murder entire families and continue on in normal daily life? If we knew these answers there would not be a Behavioral Analysis Unit. But we do not know these answers and there is a Behavioral Analysis Unit. And I for one am glad for this because I can extend an invitation to you and your team, Agent Hotchner. I invite you to try to catch and stop me from my soon-to-be spree of bloodshed and solve a case that has never been solved. Alas, I am sorry to say that this is not the only invitation. I have invited one other but for a reason different than yours; their goal is to stop you from solving this particular cold case._**

**_A week from today you shall find the first of many unfortunate souls. You will know who by the signature I leave behind. I wish you and your team luck Agent Hotchner._**

Rossi watched Hotch as he read. "Well?" he asked when the man looked up. The unit chief glanced back down at the letter and looked Rossi in the eye gravely. "This is an invitation from a soon-to-be serial killer to try and catch them."


	3. The Watchdog

_-August 25, 7:15 P.M.-_

_-Six days before-_

"Guh!"

How bored the young man looked.

"Wah!"

Normally a smile would tickle his expression at the sight before him.

"Oof!"

But for some reason, even the display of a human having pain embedded into their soul couldn't change his mood.

"Hah, hah, hah"

The man was finally left alone as he clutched at his stomach trying to breathe. The three others, that had been glad to teach the guy a lesson and blow off some steam at the same time, stood a barely a few feet away. When the harshly beaten man caught a few more breaths, he looked up at the young man sitting at a mahogany desk who had ordered this act of violence.

The young man barely looked to be around his late-teens to early-twenties. He had black hair with dark blue undertones. His sharp eyes were a deep blue that could look right through a person into their very being. He had a slight build but was mostly slim. The one feature that he was most recognized for was a black eye patch over his right eye.

A tall slim man with hair as black as a raven, skin as pale as alabaster, and eyes that seemed to be a mix of amber and crimson stepped forward from his spot next to the young man. "The Master hopes the message has sunk in." His voice came out as smooth as silk with an elegant English accent.

The beaten man coughed up blood, splattering some on the ivory rug he was sprawled on. His eyes locked on the young man's, showing him the pure anger and hate he had for him. "Sorry, but for once I'm sticking to what I believe is right you sadistic bastard!" Another kick to the back had him gasping again.

"How dare you talk to the Watchdog like that!"

"Enough"

All eyes went to the young man who hadn't uttered a word since the beating began. He got up from his chair and walked around the desk and stood in front of it. "It seems as if Dietrich has grown a backbone," his voice was laced with the same elegant English accent as the raven haired man, "Such a pity that he decided to use it to disobey me." He reached into a holster that was hidden partly under his midnight blue suit jacket. A second later, the heavily beaten man saw a revolver pointed straight at his temple.

It was time to play the Watchdog's favorite game.

"Life can be unpredictable," the young man started.

CLICK

"And your betrayal was nothing more than an element of life that we can't control."

CLICK

"However, considering it was _you_ Dietrich, my best man, did give me somewhat of a surprise."

CLICK

"And for doing that I must thank you. You reminded me that life…"

BANG!

"…can be _quite _unpredictable."

The young man put his arm down and turned to the other three men that surrounded him and the deceased. "Dispose of this," he ordered. The three hurried to drag the body away and out of their boss' office as the young man holstered the revolver. He pulled out a snow white handkerchief from his suit jacket pocket and wiped his face clean of the droplets of blood. He heard a chuckle from behind. "If you have something to say, say it, Sebastian," the young man turned to the pale, raven-haired man who still had an amused smirk on his face.

"You're still frustrated at the fact that you haven't been able to relish in the power you have for quite some time now, Master." He glanced at the clock and studied the young man carefully; his smirk became bigger when he reached a conclusion. "Or should I say _young_ master."

The young man returned the smirk with a glare, "Shut up, I'll be fine for another hour or so."

"Are you sure? That enchantment takes quite a toll on the body's energy."

The young man ignored his butler and returned to his desk chair. The other man took the silence as his cue to resume what they had been discussing before. "I have gone over every detail and have even gone through the security tapes, but have found nothing concerning who left that letter," explained Sebastian. The day before, a mysterious envelope appeared on the young man's desk. The fact that it had gotten there without anyone's notice was concerning enough, but, the contents made the letter top priority overshadowing everything else the young man was working on; whether it be his international or his underworld business.

The young man took off his eye patch revealing a purple blue eye with what looked like a star within a circle engraved into it. It would frustrate him nowadays to wear it all the time, and would take it off to read documents if it were just him and his butler. He picked up the letter that was in the crisp white envelope that he had found the previous day on his desk. It was a piece of printing paper folded into perfect thirds, and in the middle was the message.

**_What is left in the past does not stay in the past. Your beloved aunt was left behind in the life you abandoned. Her heinous deeds were also left behind. But just because you were the only one to know does not mean there were no clues to follow. _**

**_I invite you, Watchdog, to try to stop me from revealing that your beloved aunt Madam Red, or should I say Baroness Angelina Durless, spilled the very color that she so dearly loved and hated. You were once fond of exciting games and still are, so to make it interesting for you I have sent out another invitation. Whereas your invitation is inviting you to stop me from revealing the truth, the other invites to stop my spree of bloodshed and discover what I am trying to reveal._**

**_I wish you luck, Watchdog. Catch me if you can in D.C._**

"Whoever this is," started the young man, "is threatening my family's honor at revealing the identity of Jack the Ripper. I've worked hard to keep my family's name clean in the public's eye. I can't let this unknown person undo all of my work." His eyes glanced for a second to his safe hidden behind a painting, an original of course.

The butler chuckled at interpreting his master's thoughts. "Aberline certainly did make it difficult." The young man tossed the letter onto the desk. "Well, things have been slow and boring lately. If this breaks that then I-…" he stopped. He started to feel weaker and slumped in his chair. As his eyes began to droop he could feel his body slowly begin to change. Before his eyes closed he saw the smirk on his butler's face.

"Shut… up…"

* * *

**A/N: Good? Bad? What was I thinking? Would much appreciate feedback on this story. I have never written a crossover before so be as constructively brutal as you want!**


	4. Minds Obsessed

_-August 31, 8:25 A.M.-_

_-Present-_

The B.A.U. office was bustling as the staff came in, moved around and shuffled paperwork; in other words, a typical morning at Quantico.

S.S.A. Emily Prentiss, Dr. Spencer Reid, and technical analyst Penelope Garcia were spending time together at the young Dr. Reid's desk in the bullpen as they drank their morning coffee. The bubbly blonde technical analyst glanced up at the window of their unit chief's office and looked back to her companions. "Do you guys know what's going on with Hotch?" she asked. "You mean why he's been paying attention to local police reports and has been slightly on edge for about the past week?" clarified Reid. Garcia and Prentiss stared at him. "Well if you want to be specific, yeah," she answered. Prentiss continued to stare at him, "Do you ever get tired of being a genius, Reid?"

"Guys, focus," interrupted Garcia, "something's not right."

"What's not right?"

The three looked over to see their fellow teammate and friend S.S.A. Derek Morgan. "Hotch has been acting a little off lately," answered Reid. "You guys noticed too?" asked Morgan as he stirred his coffee, "I've been wondering myself."

In the office that was in the group's line of sight, their unit chief was as tense as if they were on a case that had gotten too close to the team. And it was starting to look like it.

Hotch was staring at his desk calendar looking at the date: exactly one week after he had found the mysterious invitation on his desk. Although it had said one week after the fact, he couldn't help looking through cases anyway since then for any trace of… he wasn't even sure what he was looking for, but with something like this you would know when you found it.

"You can't let this get to you, Aaron."

Rossi stood in the doorway with his hands casually in his pants pockets. When the man didn't answer he made his way to the chairs that were in front of Hotch's desk and sat down. "Is it because no one knows how it got to your desk?" Hotch looked up. "No one delivered any mail to me that day, no one saw anyone around my office, no one knows how it could have gotten anywhere with just my name on the front."

"Which is why you're looking into it yourself?" added Rossi. The two men stopped talking and looked to the door at hearing a knock. Standing there was their communications director Jennifer Jareau, fondly called J.J. "We got a local case, I just told the others and they're waiting in the conference room," she told them. "We'll be there in a minute," said Rossi. As soon as she left he turned back to Hotch. "Chances are this isn't what the letter was talking about." The unit chief was silent for a moment before standing up from his desk chair. "Let's go."

* * *

"Stephanie Nichols was found early this morning in an alley with her throat slit, her abdomen cut open and various other incisions on her torso," J.J. began explaining the case. Everyone started to look through their files on the specifics when a confused look came over all of their faces. "There's only one victim?" asked Reid, "Why are they calling us for help?" J.J. switched the picture on the monitor. "We're being called because of what police found. There was a white envelope with a red wax seal found on her torso held down by her hand, and inside they found a really specific message."

Everyone but Rossi and Hotch read what was in the letter found at the scene. The two recognized the seal right away and exchanged glances as the others read. One by one the team members turned to their unit chief. "This killer has contacted you before?" Morgan was the one to ask. Although he was expecting such, Hotch still hesitated a second before answering. "Yes, whoever it is has made contact with me."

"Why didn't you say anything about it?" asked Prentiss. Hotch answered her question but addressed everyone in the room. "It wouldn't have made much difference if all of you had this on your minds when it wasn't even confirmed there was truth behind it." Now everyone got a better understanding why their unit chief had been acting a little off. "So where's the message from the killer?" asked Morgan. "In my office, I'll put it together with the other evidence," he stood up, "Right now we have a crime scene to see." As the others followed, Rossi stayed back a minute to read over the short letter that had been left at the scene. It had the exact same swooping cursive script as the one that had been left in Hotch's office the week before.

_**Agent Aaron Hotchner,**_

_**As promised, here is the first victim. The game is afoot and the players are set. I wish you and your team luck in trying to catch me and bring to light the truth of the cold case that haunts me. **_

* * *

_-8:50 A.M.-_

"_Aunty Anne! Aunty Anne!"_

_A little bright-eyed boy flew through the colorful garden of the estate with a gleeful smile heading for the smiling three adults near the manor; His mother, his father, and his aunt._

_He ran as fast as his short legs could carry him, but he wouldn't get any closer to his family. In fact, it was as if he were getting farther away. The boy struggled to run faster but it did no good. And then he heard it, a roar. He stopped and looked around to find the garden engulfed in bright red flames. Turning back to his family he saw that the flames were licking at their feet._

"_No!"_

_He tried to run again to try and save them, but he couldn't move at all anymore. The boy watched in horror as the fire started to travel up the bodies of his family. All he could do was watch their lives burn away._

_And they were gone—swallowed by all that red._

As the young man jolted awake he kicked the inside of his desk. He frowned as he registered the small amount of pain in his toes.

"Master, is everything alright?" the raven haired butler walked into the office right then with a tray with the young man's morning tea and had heard the bang on the desk from the hallway. "I'm fine," he murmured through gritted teeth. Sebastian raised an eyebrow. The young man had been sleeping much more often the past week and had been having fits of frustration or anger. Young or not, this was not natural for him.

As the butler poured the tea he started to go over the day's schedule. "At 9:30 this morning you have a meeting with the company heads of the branches from Germany, France and England; at 12:00 you have lunch with possible investors; and at 2:30 this afternoon you have a video conference with business associates in Latin America to report figures and propose new ideas." He looked up to see if his master had been paying attention. Not much to his surprise, the young man was resting his head in his hands. Only one thing could explain this behavior.

"And also, I've looked into police reports from Washington D.C. and have found nothing even remotely pertaining to the letter." The young man looked up showing a scowl at hearing the news. An entire week had passed since the letter of invitation had appeared on his desk; an entire week of reminiscing on a life thought long forgotten.

He picked up the teacup his butler placed in front of him. "How long until my first appointment, Sebastian?" he asked before raising the cup to his lips. "Thirty-eight minutes," the butler answered a second later. The young man sighed and put the cup down, "More of the same of course." Sebastian chuckled. "What is so funny?" The butler looked the young man in the eye with a faint smile. "If I recall, you wanted to return to this life having had missed the 'games' that one plays in this human world." His master didn't respond and merely frowned as he stood up.

"Well, there's no harm in arriving early," the young man walked around the desk and headed for the door; the butler followed. "May I ask something, Master?" asked Sebastian. The young man stopped at the door, he seemed to be contemplating it. "Go ahead," he finally said.

"Will the _young master_ be making an appearance at the lunch today?"

Sebastian was positive that his master wouldn't pass up an opportunity like this. The young man slowly turned. "What was true then is true now. Adults tend to put their guard down around children, always underestimating their potential and abilities of comprehension," a smirk snaked across his face, "Taking advantage of such adult tendencies has always been a great help in business." As the young man opened the door and walked out, Sebastian couldn't help chuckling.

* * *

_-12:27 P.M.-_

In a small dining hall in a well known upscale hotel, well dressed businessmen and woman mingled as they enjoyed a buffet style, international themed lunch. The reason for this gathering: meeting with the owner and CEO of an international business they were considering sinking their teeth into.

Amongst the crowd of adults stood out a lone figure, the slim figure of a young boy. The boy was standing at the buffet filling his plate with favorite foods and carefully avoiding the unknown dishes. He barely looked to be around twelve or so.

Two women curiously approached the boy, after a few minutes of watching, wondering why he was here. "Excuse me, sweetheart," the woman with glasses and an American accent said to get his attention. The boy turned and the women unknowingly mentally agreed that he was a beautiful child. The other woman with bright green eyes spoke. "Are you here by yourself?" Good English but she still had a bit of a French accent. He shook his head. "No, I'm here with my father. He's talking with some of the people here." The women were surprised, who would even think of bringing their child to an investors' luncheon?

"I better hurry," the boy continued, "my father said to meet him before he spoke at the podium." The attention of the women was caught, and they started to notice something familiar about the boy; an elegant English accent, black hair with dark blue undertones that messily covered his right eye, and his visible eye a deep sapphire blue.

"Your last name wouldn't happen to be Phantomhive, would it?" the bright green eyed French woman asked. The boy's smiling face was the most adorable thing the women had ever seen. "Yes, ma'am, I'm Ciel Phantomhive."


	5. Welcome to the States

_-August 31, 9:40 P.M.-_

How useful modern day technology was. In just in instant he had all the reports concerning one specific police case from Washington D.C.

The black clad tall butler was hurrying to his master's room to report on his findings. He took out a pocket watch; definitely odd for this day and age, but was completely normal to find the butler use. He quickened his pace, after all these years and his master still preferred to retire to his room by ten every night with special and business occasions as exceptions.

At arriving he knocked in a special code to let his master know that it was just him. The bedroom door slowly opened and partially revealed thirteen-year-old Ciel Phantomhive, dressed out of the formal clothes from earlier and in casual and comfortable clothing. The young boy silently moved away from the door and let the butler in. "Forgive me for interrupting, young master," apologized Sebastian, "but you did say to inform you as soon as I found any relevant information." He handed the boy the few pages he had. Ciel read over the report as he walked back to his bed paying attention to the cause of death and what the letter that was left contained. "So whoever this is is giving the other player a bit of an advantage over me," he looked up at his butler, "Don't you think it's time we examined things for ourselves?"

The corners of Sebastian's mouth curved ever so slightly. "I thought you might suggest that, young master."

* * *

_-September 1, 12:03 A.M.-_

Another night with the sky polluted by city lights and another night of strolling through the dark streets lined with crumbling and abandoned buildings. One person, a self-proclaimed child of the night, found it incredible. They saw how it was possible to have two worlds in one city; the top dogs and the lowlifes; the white collar and the blue collar; the rich and the poor.

But observing and comparing would have to be left for another time; there was a job to do.

In a neighborhood similar to the previous, the child of the night walked to the one area that was considered as a hell hole. Riddled with prostitutes, drug dealers, you name it and it was probably there. The target had already been picked and monitored. The time had been chosen and was fast approaching.

The wait wouldn't be much longer, and it was more than certain that it would be even easier this time around.

* * *

_-7:41 A.M.-_

The alleyway had been roped off and was full of police and forensics on scene. "It's only been one day and he's already killed again," commented Morgan as he got up from studying the body. The latest victim was Annie Smith, a 23-year-old prostitute. Her neck was slit, her stomach was cut open, and her kidneys and uterus were removed. Morgan, Reid, and Prentiss had been sent to check out the scene. "Well there's one thing we can conclude about the killer now," commented Reid, "He's made it pretty obvious who he's been copying."

"Yeah, the only way he could make it more obvious is if he wrote Jack the Ripper on the wall," added Morgan, "But what I'm wondering about is what does this unsub have against a cold case that's over a hundred years old."

"That and also what's up with the other 'invitation' that was mentioned in the letter Hotch got," Prentiss had come over from talking to the police in charge of the scene, "So what did you find out from the body?"

"No defense wounds on the body so he must have snuck up on her and slit her throat before she could react, just like the last one," explained Morgan. "The only difference being the dissection and the removal of organs," added Reid, "It seems as if he's mimicking the murders of Jack the Ripper's canonical five. Not only is he copying the lifestyles and deaths of the women, but he's even gotten it down to the names."

"The names?" questioned Morgan.

"Well not exactly, but they're very close. The first two of the canonical five were Mary Ann Nichols and Annie Chapman, and the names of this unsub's first victims are Stephanie Nichols and Annie Smith," continued Reid. Prentiss looked down at the covered body. "Too much of a coincidence don't you think?" she looked back to her teammates, "He's most likely been studying his victims and probably others as well before having had found the right ones to get it as close as he possibly can. The only problem is that apparently there are no witnesses in either murder."

"I believe that," said Morgan, "Look at the places where these women were at the time of their death. Do you think any of these people would go anywhere near a cop?"

"Point taken," commented Prentiss.

"By the way, were they able to get any prints off of the ring?" asked Reid. This time the killer hadn't left a note but a gold signet ring in the woman's fist with a slip of paper rolled up inside with the words 'My gift to you, B.A.U.' written in the familiar script. "No, it was as clean as if it had just come from the jewelers," Prentiss answered, "Right now they're trying to figure out what or whose crest is on it. The only question is if it will lead us to the killer or keep us playing the game this guy wants us to play."

* * *

_-7:30 A.M.-_

In a top star hotel located on Pennsylvania Avenue, Ciel Phantomhive sat on the suite's couch with his head resting on his hand, still frustrated about the time differences as his butler unpacked. "I despise time differences. We leave late in the morning and arrive hours earlier than the time we left. It throws off a schedule if one isn't careful." He picked up the teacup that rested on the table in front of him and indulged in the tea's aroma. He was at least glad that the hotel had decent tea.

"Having a bit of a tantrum are we?" joked Sebastian.

"Shut up," Ciel put the teacup down, "Did you get the information on who's in charge of the case?"

"I was able to on the jet. It appears that the United States F.B.I.'s Behavior Analysis Unit is in charge of the proceedings of this case. The team on the case consists of five Special Supervisory Agents, unit chief Aaron Hotchner, senior S.S.A. David Rossi, and S.S.A.s Derek Morgan, Emily Prentiss, and Dr. Spender Reid; a communications director, Jennifer Jareau; and a technical analyst, Penelope Garcia. They have profiled and helped solve various serial killings and kidnappings throughout their careers. Although the most interesting part is that they were called very early in these killings due to the letter that was left at the first scene."

"Trying to make it even more of a challenge for me no doubt, but whoever this killer may be is wasting their time. They can try all they want but I will end up winning this little game of theirs."

Sebastian finished unpacking and tucked the suitcases into the back of the closet. "What is your plan, young master?" The young boy rose from the couch and went over to where his carry-on bag was on the dresser and searched for something. "Well, nothing much can be done until the next body appears. For now, to take advantage of the fact that we're here, the Watchdog will take care of some business personally," he pulled out a small vial that fit in his palm as he spoke. The vial was a quarter full of its dark liquid.

"It looks as if a new batch is in order, would you like me to prepare it soon, young master?" asked Sebastian. Ciel went to the bathroom and changed into the adult-sized bath robe before coming back out. "I doubt I'll be using it too often while we're here, but just in case have some ready by tomorrow," he answered as he uncorked the vial. He took a small sip and quickly corked and returned it to the bag. Sebastian went to the closet and retrieved some clothes. As his back was turned he could hear his young master's pained grunts. He waited a few more seconds until the grunting ceased. When he turned back, a young man in his early-twenties was in his young master's place.

"Would you prefer the dark blue or the dark grey suit, _master_?"

* * *

As soon as Ciel had changed his clothes, the master and butler left the hotel to take care of the business he had talked about before. At the main hotel entrance their rental car stood waiting. Sebastian opened the back side door and his master quickly slipped in, he took the driver's seat.

After pulling into traffic Sebastian looked at his master through the rearview mirror. "What is your impression of the States since your last visit?" Ciel was staring out the window bored. "Same as before when I came in 1924. Either way I don't pay much attention to a country's culture beyond what I require to interact with humans. And it's not as if it's hard to learn about American culture." A small yawn escaped the young man's mouth and a frown appeared right after. Sebastian raised an eyebrow. His master hadn't shown drowsiness like this in years. "Are you alright, master?"

"I'm fine, I still have jetlag, and I am still really young after all," he answered waving off his butler's curiosity. The past week Ciel had been explaining away his excessive sleeping with the reasoning that he was "still young". While it was true that at his age sleep was still a bit of a necessity and not yet a luxury, twelve hours was a lot for one week.

After a while the scenery made a drastic change; from clean streets and well dressed pedestrians, to graffiti covered walls and shady characters. Ciel looked ahead, "Make sure to park in the back of the building, security doesn't cover the side or front." As Sebastian turned the corner they were met with a street blocked off by police cars. "It seems as if we have a problem, master," stated Sebastian. Ciel leaned forward to get a better look. Considering what kind of neighborhood this was it was odd to see so much police. And of course they had to be blocking the back way to the very building he was heading to.

He leaned back in the seat thinking. Should he go back and return at another time, or find a way around? As Ciel reached a decision he sighed. "Sebastian, we're going a different way even if it means having to park in a different spot." Sebastian nodded. As the butler was about to go in reverse, two figures approached the car and knocked on the driver's tinted window. In the rearview mirror Ciel silently nodded. Before rolling down the window Sebastian took note that one of them was a well built African-American male and the other was a slim Caucasian male, neither of them was wearing a uniform but they both had guns.

As soon as the window was fully down Sebastian looked out. "May I help you gentlemen with something?"


	6. First Lead

**(message to reader!) I just wanted to say thanks to everyone! Reading everyone's comments gave me the motivation to keep writing. I also want to say that updates might be slow because botany and psych. are really dominating my time this semester. Again, thank you everyone!**

* * *

Morgan, Reid, and Prentiss finished with the scene and were just about to leave. They were at the car when Reid noticed that the black car with tinted windows, which was very out of place in this neighborhood, he had spotted a few minutes ago was still there. "Hey guys," his team members turned to him, "that car has been standing there for a few minutes now." Morgan and Prentiss looked over to the car Reid was referring too. "Definitely not the type of car you expect to see around here," commented Prentiss.

"Let's check it out quick," said Morgan. As they were about to go, Prentiss' cell phone rang. "You guys go, I'll stay back and see what's going on," she said as she answered. The other two went on. "The engine's still running," observed Morgan, "think they're waiting or watching?"

"Not sure. Although they might be waiting, if they were watching it would be pretty suspicious to do it in a shiny, new, black Lincoln," suggested Reid. Morgan was the one to approach the car and knocked on the window. It rolled down.

"May I help you gentlemen with something?" Morgan and Reid were startled for a second at how red a hue the driver's irises were. Although the driver was smiling, there was something about the way he smiled and the way he held himself that gave off an ominous feeling. "Sir is there something you're waiting for?" asked Morgan. Reid noticed movement in the backseat before a hand appeared on the driver's seat. "So sorry if we're interfering with the police," a body-less voice started, "but since the way we're going is blocked, we're trying to figure out another route."

Morgan and Reid adjusted their position to try to get a better view of the inside of the car. A young man with an eye-patch over his right eye pulled himself into view from the backseat. "Would you happen to know a detour?" he asked. The fact that the young man was riding in the back gave Morgan more reason to be suspicious. "You're sure that this is the way you're supposed to be going?"

A soft chuckle escaped the young man's lips. "I understand what you're thinking; a car like this, with a driver no less, traveling through a neighborhood like this is odd to say the least. But this is the way we're meant to go." It was as if he knew exactly what Morgan and Reid were thinking. Not finding any other reason to question them, Morgan gave them quick directions before letting them drive off. Morgan turned to his fellow young team member, "Believe all that?" Reid took a second.

"There's a bit of a condescending attitude towards police or authorities, but all that seemed true to me." Morgan raised an eyebrow, "Oh you got that too?" He laughed a bit at the unappreciative look Reid gave him for the obvious sarcasm. They walked back to the car where Prentiss was waiting for them. "How'd that go?" she asked as she replaced her phone in her pocket. "Besides the fact that they were going through this neighborhood, nothing too suspicious," answered Reid.

Morgan nodded toward the pocket Prentiss had her phone. "What was that about?"

"Well, two things," she started, "one: you got Garcia thinking that we got ambushed and were tied up and gagged in the back of van by not answering your phone, and I'm putting that _mildly_." Morgan pulled his phone out and checked it, noticing that the battery was drained. Prentiss continued, "And, two: she got a match on the crest."

* * *

_-8:21 A.M.-_

As soon as the last three agents entered the conference room, Garcia walked in after ready to start. "Alright, so, it took a bit of time but I was able to work my computer magic and find the family that owns, or rather owned, this coat of arms." She picked up and clicked the remote to show an enlarged image of the ring next to a colored drawn image of the coat of arms on the screen on the wall in front of the table. "This was the coat of arms for an English noble family; the Phantomhive family. The last Earl of Phantomhive supposedly died in 1889 of unknown causes."

"Supposedly?" asked Rossi.

"Well it's really weird because out of nowhere, twelve years later, a young man traveled from Switzerland to England for Queen Victoria's funeral and claimed to be the former Earl of Phantomhive. There was a whole lot of questioning done by Scotland Yard, but statements from former servants, friends, and even Scotland Yard's commissioner proved that he was the Earl, Ciel Phantomhive. After that he acquired his family's company again, but he didn't accept his title as Earl again for reasons unknown."

"Hold on, how old was this guy when he 'died'?" asked Prentiss, "This math isn't adding up to me? I mean, twelve years later, a young man?"

Garcia began to fidget, "Well, this is where the sad story comes in. The last Earl Phantomhive was thirteen, going on fourteen, when he was reported as dead. He became Earl at ten years old after the Phantomhive manor burned down and his parents died in the fire, and after he reappeared after having had disappeared for about a month."

Rossi leaned back in his chair and rubbed his chin in thought for a second. "So what does this former Earl from over a hundred years ago have to do with this Jack the Ripper copy cat now?" he asked, "Sure the timelines match up a bit, but there has got to be more than that."

"Actually, it might have something to do with the family now," mentioned Reid. His team members turned to him. The young agent seemed lost in thought for a second before looking up at Garcia. "What was the name of the family company?"

"Well…" Garcia clicked the remote to show the next image. Everyone stared at the logo on the screen that they were all so familiar with.

* * *

_-12:35 P.M.-_

A ringing sound shattered the silence of the once quiet room. Ciel glanced at the desk on the opposite side of the bed. He and Sebastian had returned from taking care of some business about an hour ago and he had sent his butler to look into any new murder cases. In the meantime he was reading over some reports as he lounged in an overstuffed wing-back chair in his bedroom.

Silently, Ciel stood and tossed the papers onto the bed before walking over to the desk. The light of a cell phone shined from the desk as it continued to ring. The ringing continued for another few seconds before the young man picked it up and answered.

"What is it?"

That cell phone number, which contacted him directly, was known only by a select few.

He was silent as he listened. After a few seconds he raised an eyebrow. "Did they say what for?"

"…"

"Really?"

"…"

"No, actually I'll take care of it. Call them and tell them if they want to talk they can come in at four today. Call me back if they agree." He hung up.

Ciel replaced the phone to its spot on the desk and stared at it for a bit. He broke into a sly grin and started to chuckle all of a sudden. "I wonder if you realize that this is working more to my advantage than your own."

* * *

_-Unknown time-_

"Uh, how dreadful."

A man looked down over the side of the building observing a young woman who boorishly laughed at her companion's story. Her greasy hair was pulled up in an attempt to hide how long it had been since she had last properly washed it. The young woman's clothes, which the man had cringed at on first sight, were wrinkled from a long night.

He turned back and pushed his red glasses back up the bridge of his nose before flipping his flaming red hair. He pulled out a book from his coat that hung off of his arms and started flipping through the pages until finding what he wanted. He hummed as he quickly skimmed over the words.

"No matter which way you look at it this is a punishment devised up by that cold-hearted Will. And I thought I had atoned for my misdeeds all those years ago." He sighed before shutting the book and glancing over his shoulder to look at the young woman. "Well, it seems as if you're next Ms. Erica Stride."


	7. A Sweet Shell and Bitter Center

**Thank you everyone for putting up with the long wait. Knowing all of you are waiting for the next chapter is what gives me the drive to write. I know how it is to wait for the next chapter of a story, so I'm trying my best to find time to write.**

* * *

_-September 1, 3:42 P.M.-_

The blonde woman's blue eyes scanned each person that passed through the door. He had said to tell them to come by at four, but you never could tell with federal agents. And it looked like her suspicion was right.

An unknown and out of place young, slim Caucasian man and a much older, olive skinned man entered through the lobby doors. She approached them, "Good afternoon, gentlemen, Agents Reid and Rossi I presume?" They weren't so surprised at her being able to tell who they were and she assumed this happened quite a bit to them.

"Yes we are," confirmed the older man, "And you're Bethany Willoughby?"

"Yes I am," she extended her hand to the older man, "welcome to Funtom's North American headquarters."

* * *

Ciel scoffed. Since he first set foot on the twenty second floor, employees that recognized the young boy would go out of their way to please him. He merely ignored them; he had a job to do.

He sat in an empty cubicle that had a view of the elevator. He had been waiting for the past twenty minutes and would sigh and spin in the chair as if bored so the employees wouldn't get suspicious of him hanging around. He heard a beep from his pocket and pulled out his phone. He opened the text message and smirked.

Looking at the elevator one more time, Ciel put his foot against the wall of the cubicle and timed it. As soon as the elevator dinged and the doors were just opening, he pushed against the wall and shot off toward the elevator.

"Ciel!"

A pair of hands stopped his chair from going into the elevator. He let a sly grin slip before turning around and facing the angry blonde woman. He smiled sweetly as dark blue eyes met light blue ones, "Hi, Ms. Bethany, how are you?" Although she still looked angry, she seemed to ease up a bit. "This is not what your father meant when he said try not to get too bored," she coolly explained. He raised his hands up defensively, nervously chuckling, "This was… an accident?" She sighed, "Right…"

Ciel turned to the other two people in the elevator with her. He quickly realized that the young man was one of the agents they had run into earlier. It wouldn't interfere with his plans, much anyway. He beamed. "Hey, are you two the FBI agents that are meeting with Ms. Bethany?!"

"Yes, we are," answered the older man, "And you would be?" Ciel jumped up from the chair, "I'm Ciel Phantomhive." He quickly glanced at the young man and realized that he was deep in thought about something. _'Damn, don't tell me he's connecting me and the Watchdog.'_ He realized that Bethany was talking, but knew what she was saying anyway. "Well, if they want to know about the company and my family, why don't I help?"

"I don't think your father—"

"Come on, I'm bored, and besides, I probably know more than you."

Bethany looked back at the agents, "Well, only if it's alright with you." The older of the two looked reluctant. "Why not." The older man and Bethany looked to the younger agent. "The more we can find out the better, right?" Bethany didn't protest and motioned down the hall, "We can talk more in my office." As everyone followed, Ciel glanced at the young agent. He might have to keep an eye on him.

* * *

Rossi wasn't sure what was going through his young team mate's head. What did he think the boy could tell them?

Ciel was walking ahead of the group and was the first one to reach the office. He opened the door and stepped inside. As Rossi, Reid, and Bethany walked in, Ciel sat down in a wingback chair with a side table and lamp that was off to the side of the desk next to a set of bookcases. Rossi couldn't help thinking that there was something about the way the boy looked in the chair that gave him a confident aura.

"I understand that the B.A.U. wants to know about Funtom's history, and the history of our founding family," started Bethany. Reid spoke for the first time since leaving the elevator. "Yes, we believe that there's a possible connection between the company and family and a case we're working on."

"Well the company's history isn't that extensive. It wasn't much until the late 1880s when its reputation grew rapidly in under three years while under the new Earl Phantomhive. The company focused on candy and toys until 1889 or so when it expanded into foodstuffs. From then on the company continued to grow, eventually becoming a main player on the world stage. Now there's hardly a store without at least a few Funtom products.

"But I'm afraid that's all of my knowledge, and everyone else's here, of the Phantomhive family."

"It's a good thing I'm here to help then." The three adults turned to the boy. He had a smug tone and a matching look in his eye as if mocking the adults that a child knew more than them. "I don't remember how much of this is recorded outside of our records, but the Phantomhive family has a dark past as an Earldom." Ciel had decided on how much to tell them; just enough for them to trust him, but not enough to put him at a disadvantage and have it turn around on him. "I wasn't told any of this, I found out on my own. The Phantomhive Earldom was also known by two nicknames: the Evil Noblemen and the Queen's Watchdogs. Just like any other country, Great Britain had its underworld, and the Phantomhive Earldom was in charge of keeping it under control and making the separation between the underworld and the surface world very clear."

The information made something clear to Reid. "That's why the Phantomhive crest has two eagles with outstretched wings. If an eagle's wings are spread it can signify protection," he thought aloud. Ciel nodded his head, "That's right."

Rossi wondered why Reid wasn't thinking about it. This with the information Garcia had given them should have made him think about it. He had to ask. "So the Phantomhive Earl during the time of the company's rapid growth was a young boy, correct?" The glint in the boy's eyes went from lighthearted to sad. "Yes, he was. Every Earl had the same role, and he would always comply with his duties. You have to keep in mind that it was a different time then." The playful spirit the boy had seemed to have vanished and his gaze slowly went to the floor.

"I'm sorry but that's enough." The two agents turned away from the boy and to the blonde that had been silent during the boy's explanation. She stood and went over to Ciel. "I think your father's meeting is over, I'll take you to him right now." Without a word and still not looking up, Ciel stood and started for the door. Before following the boy, Bethany excused herself promising to return. She led Ciel to the end of the hall and opened a door that was a darker tone than the others, letting him go in before her.

When Bethany turned around after closing the door, she was met by his satisfied smirk. "That went as good as I planned." He was sitting comfortably in his desk chair. "Shall I tell them anything else?" she asked. He waved his hand in the air, "No, just ask them if that's all they need. If they would like anything else tell them to call your secretary and call me before you talk to them."

"Very well, Mr. Phantomhive," she said before excusing herself. As Bethany closed the door behind her, Ciel gripped the cushioned armrest of his desk chair. He hated interacting with her and the two others. It was bad enough he had been having dreams about his memories, but interacting with her was pushing him over the edge. Over a hundred years and he could still see the loyal chef in the man's descendents. Mey-rin and Finny's descendents were no different.

A knock interrupted his thoughts. He huffed annoyed as he was not looking forward to slipping back into his cute and innocent act. "Come in!" He absolutely despised this.

"My, my, I hope you have been a good boy." Ciel resisted the urge to throw the paperweight as his butler came in. "Shut it, Sebastian. What have you found?" After reporting no new cases, Ciel sent him to look over the crime scenes and see if there was anything missed. Sebastian's smile fell instantly and had a look of disgust and contempt. Ciel had seen this look on his butler before, but couldn't remember when or for what.

"I found… something."

* * *

"We'll help any way we can, don't hesitate to call," Bethany said as she said goodbye to Rossi and Reid in the lobby. The two agents didn't speak as they walked out of and away from the building before the silence went on for an abnormal amount of time. "What's on your mind, Reid? Something not feel right?" Rossi asked, breaking the silence.

"They look too alike for it to be a coincidence." Reid didn't hesitate. Rossi slowed his pace without Reid noticing. He could tell that his teammate had been thinking about this for a while. "Who looks too alike? Are you talking about the Phantomhive boy? Reid?" The young agent completely stopped and turned to face Rossi. "The two men we saw at the crime scene earlier. The one in the backseat, he and Ciel Phantomhive share a lot of similarities, they almost make me think that they're brothers."

"Do you think they could be brothers?"

"I think we should look into the Phantomhives more."


	8. Information Overload

**A/N: Really hope you guys don't hate me for taking so long.**

* * *

_-4:40 P.M.-_

'_Nothing…nothing….nothing!'_

Garcia couldn't believe it. She hadn't found a thing about the Phantomhive family she hadn't already found: press stories on the company and family, photos of the head honcho himself in their company's employee newsletter, '_But nothing juicy!'_

She sighed as she leaned back in her chair. She had spent the last half hour scouring through databases at Reid's request. Garcia hadn't even found any of the new information Reid and Rossi had gotten at the Funtom Headquarters. "They probably have all their records tucked away in the library of their family estate like in the movies," she half-mumbled to herself. A beep from her computer dragged her out of her depressed thoughts.

Before she could lift a finger, a window popped open on her screen. She blinked, rubbed her eyes, and looked at the computer screen again. This made no sense.

Garcia sent the photo and information to the conference room and walked out in a rush to rally her team.

* * *

The strangest thing had just happened to the team's unit chief. He had suddenly gotten a headache, and at his team's suggestion—coercion—he went to his office to rest a while.

Hotch gulped down the aspirin with a drink of water. He rubbed his temple, and when that didn't work he sat back in his chair and closed his eyes. He tried to clear his mind of everything, but he couldn't completely. Parts of the case kept floating through his mind with each pulsating pang of pain.

The victims, _-badum-_, Phantomhive, _-badum-_, Jack the Ripper, _-badum-_

He just couldn't do it.

He was about to get up and return to his team when a flash of red and a word suddenly overlapped everything else in his thoughts.

_Watchdog_

Hotch snapped his eyes open and sat up straight. _'I…know that. But where have I heard it?'_

"Hey, Hotch, feeling better?" Rossi was standing in the doorway looking into the office, "Garcia has something." Hotch straightened up and got out of his chair. "I'm fine now." As he walked with Rossi to the conference room, he realized that his headache was completely gone.

A bustling Garcia led Morgan, Reid, and Prentiss into the room. She made a dash for the screen and switched it to the information she had sent over. "So someone remind me to name the next update to the facial recognition system after our Dr. Reid," she mentioned. The comment raised a few none too surprised eyebrows as she continued. "As requested, I started looking deeper into the Phantomhive family, and didn't find much, not even what we learned today. But, I did find something." At a click of a button, the photo, an obvious to them surveillance photo, that had her stunned a few minutes ago was displayed for all to see.

"Hold on, that's the guy Reid and I saw at the crime scene today," Morgan stated as he leaned forward in his chair. Garcia nodded. "That's what I guessed when I remembered what Reid told me over the phone; uncanny resemblance with Ciel Phantomhive."

"That's not what I said," interjected Reid. "Well that's the gist I was getting from you," explained Garcia before she continued. "I used the system to find pictures of the head/owner of the company in hopes of getting more information, but I also got matches concerning this young man and, surprise, surprise, Ciel Phantomhive." There was something unsettling about that and knowing how good the system was. "So you're saying that the three of them look so alike that the system is seeing them as the same person?" asked Prentiss. Garcia shook her head, "No, I'm not saying that they look so alike, I'm saying that they look exactly alike despite the age differences."

"Alright let's slow down a bit," Morgan cut in, "What about the guy Reid and I saw, do you know who he is? What do you got on him?" The blonde analyst paused for a second. "Well, ah, this photo of him and little info I got I actually got from, well…the DEA and CIA databases." Garcia cringed a little at the end, expecting disapproving glances and tones. Surprisingly, she didn't get any from the unit chief. Instead, Hotch looked to think something over before saying, "He's the Watchdog, first assumed to be a European mob boss, but it's now assumed that he's more than that. We've found ties with various other bosses all over the world, but under him. He's been on their lists for a long time."

Rossi and Reid turned to Hotch and then to each other. "Kind of like the Phantomhive Earldom," said Rossi. "Connected to the Underworld and known as the Watchdogs," finished Reid.

* * *

_-9:36 P.M.-_

This was the last thing he wanted to do. As soon as his butler told Ciel what he had found, the boy was not looking forward to what he had in mind.

"Is he really waiting?" asked Ciel. Sebastian's contempt had not left his face since leaving the company headquarters. "Yes, apparently he thinks we could be of help to him and offered an exchange of information," he answered. Ciel raised an eyebrow. "Really? He doesn't sound as… idiotic anymore."

"I thought the same. But do not expect much of a change."

The two had traveled by car to the area and parked a ways away before continuing on foot. They were going to see the one person who knew something about the incidents, more so the deaths themselves, concerning the Jack the Ripper copycat. And neither of them was looking forward to it.

"Sebastian darling~ you're back!"

Ciel flinched at hearing that voice again after so many years. He looked up to the roof to the right of the alley they were walking down and saw the flamboyant Reaper, Grell Sutcliffe. Grell jumped down off the roof and landed in front of the two. Just as they had, he had updated his clothes since their last encounter to blend in more easily to the current times. Surprisingly, he had also cut his hair, but it was still quite long. His bright red glasses were the only article that hadn't changed.

The usual scene ensued; Grell attempts to grab the butler, and Sebastian effortlessly dodges the Reaper. "Still playing hard to get, Bassy? It's a good thing I like a chase~" He threw the butler a wink, to which Sebastian responded with an irritated scowl.

"Do you have information on this copycat case, Grell?" Ciel bluntly asked, annoyed. Grell looked down at the boy. "Still sweet as ever I see. Well, the thing is that we're also having trouble with this matter. The only reason I'm here is because I was involved in the original case and the Dispatch thinks I will be able to help. Although it seems more of a punishment then anything…"

"Trouble?" asked Sebastian, "So there is a problem with the souls of the victims?"

"Not quite. It's not that there's a problem with the souls, rather it's that the souls were missing," explained Grell, "I'm assigned to reap the souls of the victims of this so-called copycat, and for each of them there wasn't a soul to reap. I have to resort to following the next victim to see for myself."

"Tell me, Grell, what information can you offer for an exchange?" asked Ciel as he crossed his arms. Grell flashed a grin, revealing his shark-like teeth. "Business time? Well alright. As a Reaper, I have all the information relevant to the victim's history. And I think you would find something about the victims very interesting." The young boy frowned. "And what kind of information would you want in exchange?" he asked. "All that I, and the Dispatch, want to know is how are you involved in this matter?"

Ciel smirked. "We were simply invited to join in on the fun." It was Grell's turn to frown. "Really? It can't be just that. Well, that should be enough for the Dispatch anyway." The Reaper suddenly jumped up and made his way to the roof to the right of them again. Ciel was about to yell angrily before Grell looked over the ledge down to them. "Well, are you coming or not?" he asked rather seriously. He turned back to look over the roof and walked to the opposite side that overlooked the street. At hearing the sound of footsteps, he looked over his shoulder. "Right across the street from us is the friend of both of the victims."

Sebastian and Ciel looked to where Grell pointed out. There were two scantily clad women, but one was just leaving with an assumed customer leaving the other woman alone. "So she was friends with both victims, what of it?" asked Ciel. Sebastian tapped a finger on his chin in thought. "Actually, young master, that is quite significant. It means that the victims knew each other."

"Very well then, but why couldn't you just tell us rather than bringing us here, Grell?"

The Reaper looked back down at the lone woman. "Because I thought you might like to see the copy-cat's next victim, friend to Stephanie Nichols and Annie Smith, Erica Stride."

* * *

**Note for those that know about Criminal Minds, and if you don't, don't worry so much about this: I will not be writing a scene of the team giving a profile because I don't even know how to start writing something like that. Just a heads up.**


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